


The Fall of Ebonvale

by TyForestWrites3



Series: Team SHDW [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Are there more survivors?, Grimm are scary, Ironwood is only mentioned, The Ogre of Grimm is scary, The fall of an advanced city, We'll soon find out, We're not done with Ebonvale yet, a guy gets decapitated, just thought i should warn you, that's why the warning is up there, the introduction of a somewhat minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyForestWrites3/pseuds/TyForestWrites3
Summary: Originally written by H20Flame on Wattpad. We work together on this series, so it's fine.Ebonvale was an obsidian mining colony in Northern Mantle (soon to be replaced by Atlas), which specialized in advanced technology and a hardened military force. But it was utterly demolished by Grimm one grisly day. This is a tale told by one of the survivors.
Series: Team SHDW [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690849





	The Fall of Ebonvale

**Author's Note:**

> Ebonvale is an awesome place that H20Flame created. It'll get expanded upon more later, but just know that it's one of those "civilization that was more advanced than anyone else at the time before getting destroyed" tropes that pop up every now and then. But here, it emphasizes the brutality and fear factor of the Grimm, something that seems to be lost in the canon series.

How do I begin this tale? On a dark and stormy night? No, it was sunny that day. It was still dark, though. Colossal, thick mounds of smoke, ash, and ruin blanketed the sky that day. I suppose that's how it always goes when a city burns.

I often wonder what would happen if I fought alongside my brothers and sisters in arms, even at my young age. Could Ebonvale, could my home, have survived another day? Could I, by being on the battlefield, have changed the outcome? How many lives could have been saved? It doesn't matter. Not anymore. My home burned in the wrath of that Grimm horde. And I did nothing but watch.

No one could have missed the sight when it began: a river of Grimm converging on the mountainous city. I don't know where it came from, nobody did. Nobody particularly cared either. We didn't fear it. We were the people of Ebonvale; songs were sung of the glorious feats of our ancestors. Our armies were strong, our defenses impenetrable, and our will was unwavering. With our great obsidian gate, our mountain city was untouchable. It always had been, and because of that the best craftsmen in the northern edges of the world gathered in Ebonvale. Men and women from all across the world would come to beg for training. Prestige became a collectable token for our people, so when we saw that horde, we rejoiced, for we were given yet another chance to display our power. I was among those who welcomed the challenge. Looking back, I now realize how foolish and prideful we were.

We unleashed our armies. The fighting men of Ebonvale marched out in column formations. Our people showered the troops with flower petals as they marched out the gate and into the small canyon that lead to the city. Oh, if only I could see it again. The well dressed ranks of the armored behemoths of men, the kilt clad Banner Guard playing 'The March of Cambreadth' on their bagpipes, the black and silver banner flying in the wind. It was magnificent.

I remember my father had told me to stay at Black Iron Hill, a steep hillside southeast of Ebonvale, until the battle was over. I complained so much about not being allowed to fight alongside him. I jokingly told him to go die in the fight before he left. It was our way of wishing luck... 'Let's hope you die out there, old man.'. Those were the last words I ever said to him.

Our soldiers had a standard way of fighting. Each man was covered head to toe in steel reinforced obsidian plate armor. Along with an obsidian tower shield, every man carried their own unique weapon. Some men had maces, others had swords, a number had battle axes, and one carried a massive war hammer as I recall. When ready to fight, the army would form a long shield wall, four ranks deep at the least. They'd slowly march the formation into the enemy, and then the fun begins. That was our way, and although the mass of Grimm was easily several times larger than our forces, we didn't fret. We've killed Grimm before, and this was the same, just bigger. Therein lies the brilliance of Ebonvale's defenses. That small canyon and the gatehouse was the only entrance into the city. This, of course, meant the Grimm couldn't pass the army by. The only way into Ebonvale would be straight into the waiting lines of our army. So long as the shield wall held, we were invincible.

The Grimm horde, made up of all manner of demon spawn, wasted no time in charging the lines. I watched as the first lines of Grimm rocked against our formation. For a moment, I feared that our lines were going to be outflanked. But my fears subsided as the rocky spires of the canyon sides made such a maneuver impossible, unless the beasts wished to fall to their deaths on the other side of our lines. The little tykes always loved watching Ursai crash face first.

Once the initial impact of the charge subsided, the soldiers of Ebonvale did what they do best. Beowolf comes up? Sword through the throat. Ursa attacks? Axe to the skull. Death Stalker? Smashed with a mace. To say it was a one-sided slaughter would be an understatement. It's rather fortunate that Grimm bodies disintegrate upon death, otherwise we'd have the trouble of moving the bodies out of the way. This went on for an hour, maybe even three. Everyone watching was having the time of their life. I even gave a hoot and holler. I can promise this: if the modern Atlesian army fought Ebonvale, those remote control clankers would be wiped out by the end of day one. Our warriors were just that unyielding...

Then he came. That thing, that... monstrosity. I know little to no one will believe me, but I saw him. I saw the Ogre of Grimm, all ten feet of him. He was fat, and yet burly. His ghastly head held three red eyes instead of two. That spear of his? Heh, it's more of a club with a spike at the end. I dare to say it was a zoologist's dream come true. He came up smashing through the hordes of Grimm, stepping on and crushing his own kind. I almost felt pity for them as he swung that spear of his, knocking away groups of Grimm in his path. He tore his way through and leapt straight over our lines. I remember being slack-jawed watching it. I mean, who could have thought that that beast would jump over our men as if they were nothing more than a picket fence?

After he passed over the lines he broke through the gate... A reinforced obsidian gate, busted off it's hinges in a single run. I don't remember seeing what he did afterwards. I can imagine though. Lots of screaming, lots of men abandoning the lines to rush back into the city. That's the last thing I saw, you know. Grimm slipping through the ever growing cracks in the formation, surrounding and ripping apart any man who still held back the wave of monsters. The battle lines of Ebonvale should never be abandoned. That was our secret, you see. As long as nothing got passed the line, it would hold indefinitely. So the moment those men chased after the Ogre, it was over.

I watched the following slaughter for a while. I remember seeing my father die. It was quick, at least. His head bit clean off, helm and all, by an Ursa Major. I know my mum probably suffered a similar fate. I know she'd put up a good fight though, with that shotgun of hers.

I don't care to remember for how long I watched. It hurt. What hurt I'll never recall, but it hurt. I... I ran. I just turned around and ran away. I ignored the screaming, the howling, the painful rapid beating of my heart. I had my gear. I had my weapons. I could have done something. Even if I died needlessly, if I would have just attempted, then it would be enough. I knew that, and yet I ran. I looked back only once, only to witness a vast cloud of smoke pinpointing the city I called home.

A couple days later, I brought news of what happened to Mantle. They heard my plea, but there wasn't much they could do. So I waited, desperately hoping that there were survivors. Maybe someone blew a hole in the mountain side? Perhaps the mines had a second way out? But that's just wishful thinking on my part. I saw the size of that Grimm horde. Even if someone attempted an escape, the casualties would have been horrendous if not absolute. Yet even still, I held on to that empty prayer. Something to make the gnawing guilt go away, I suppose.

Eventually, my pleas reached the ears of the power that replaced Mantle, otherwise known as Atlas. A couple apologies and excuses later, and all I have to show for my frustrated outbursts was a full ride scholarship into Atlas Academy.

I still haven't altogether forgiven that.

* * *

"So there you go. That's what happened."

The two interviewers regarded each other warily. They had expected a report on a Grimm infestation that got out of hand, not a story of a last stand and a grieving refugee.

"Well," one of the interviewers began, "We thank you very much for your time, Mr. Wilhelm."

Beowulf grinned warmly, "Think nothing of it, my friend. I'm simply glad I got a word in. Most people who ask me about it think I've gone mad when I tell them."

'I don't blame them,' thought the second interviewer, 'If he thinks the Ogre is real, then the trauma undoubtedly drove him insane.'

"Sir, if I may ask, did you ever find other survivors?" the first inquired.

Beowulf looked down for a moment at the question. He laughed sadly for a bit before answering.

"No, no, not yet," he replied before looking up with a determined expression, "But if there's anything I know about my people, it's that we're resilient. There are others out there. I just know it!"

By now the interviewers were getting rather restless around the boisterous man. They rose out of their seats and gave a quick bow.

"Again, thank you for your time," the first interviewer hastily repeated.

The pair quickly left without another word.

* * *

"Perhaps we should have told him about it."

The second interviewer sneered, "No, he would not be keen on hearing Ebonvale is now a bandit hideout."

"But they're not just bandits. If what General Ironwood said is true, then we're looking at a massive criminal alliance. Doesn't he deserve to know at least that?"

"No, just... no..." the second sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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